That Which Was Lost
by citrusgum
Summary: There's a tense cord between Daryl and Rick that hasn't lessened in the five years since the prison fell. Michonne knows the source of it, they all do even if nothing is ever spoken.


**That Which Was Lost**

It's been five years since the prison fell. Five years without a home base that lasted more than a couple of months. Five years going from place to place, five years of the group trickling down. There's only seven of them now, the ranks having tightened over the years. No room for outsiders now, not after everything. No one is sure who's more dangerous, the walkers or other survivors. No one knows anymore where the greatest danger lies.

So they stick to their group.

Rick is still the leader, though there's less to lead, these days. They make their choices as a unit, survival weighing heavily on all of their minds and Michonne is hard pressed to think of the last time Rick had to make a call.

He's got both of his children, through whatever miracle allowed it. Carl is more of a man than a boy, sitting somewhere around seventeen by their last guess. Judith is all knees and elbows and far older than her years, but she still brings a light to their small family that they all need.

Sasha's with them too, having lost her brother right after the prison fell. She, too, is harder than she once was, but there's a quickness to her thinking that's kept them all alive more than once.

Beth is the only remaining member of the Greene family with them. Hershel's death at the hands of the governor had started the chain of events that cost them so much. It had taken less than a week for what remained of their group to make it to the meet up point, though few had elected to stick together for long. Somehow, the weight of all they had lost had made attachments seem more frightening and everyone splintered into their own groups. After that, the weight of grief had choked both Greene girls, becoming enough that Maggie announced a need to set out on her own, away from the group. Glenn had gone with her, of course, but it surprised everyone when Beth had declined. She was more Judith's mother than anyone else and, somehow, that bond had been strong enough to make her say goodbye to her sister.

Michonne isn't sure where Maggie and Glenn are, but she hopes they're out there somewhere. Together and alive.

Number seven is Daryl, though it's easy to forget him. He disappears for days at a time, returning with what little game he's managed to scrounge up and when he isn't off hunting he keeps to himself. Michonne can get a smile from him sometimes, and Judith hardly leaves him alone when he's around, but there's a tense cord between Daryl and Rick that hasn't lessened in the last five years.

Michonne knows the source of it, they all do even if nothing's ever spoken. Beth had tried, at first. Tried to bring the men back together, knowing that the strength of their friendship was important. But there was only so long she could spend trying to push a rock that wouldn't move.

There had been no time to react, back then. The Governor's attack began nearly on top of Rick delivering the news about Carol and in the chaos that had followed, any hope Daryl may have had for going after her had died. So he'd stayed with them, protected them, but he'd never been the same.

None of them had, without the safety of the prison to bring out their smiles the walls that protected them now are all internal.

And Daryl's are the highest of them all.

* * *

"Going to look around," she says softly when Rick relieves her from watch. Sasha and Judith are asleep, the latter resting in Beth's lap as she mends one of their meager blankets.

Carl is nearby, studiously sharpening his knife and Daryl is crouched across the fire, whittling himself new bolts.

"Be careful," Rick advises, it's all the goodbye they manage these days and Daryl grunts to acknowledge her but doesn't look up. Carl's eyes dart to her briefly and Michonne knows he wants to join her, but he's got watch after Rick and he should get some rest.

Age has lessened his stubbornness, and he returns to his knife without a word.

They're not in Georgia anymore, though she's long since lost track of what state. Somewhere North, is all she knows. Boundaries are meaningless these days and any town worth going to has long since been picked clean. So they stick to the woods, dense trees doing what they can to slow the walkers and providing a little shelter from the weather.

But winter is coming and Michonne knows they need to find something before the snow comes. Last winter they'd gone from cave to cave and the wetness had resulted in a chest cold that had taken each of them down for a good long time. Everyone except Judith had developed the cough, and Michonne was starting to think the little girl was stronger than the rest of them with her immune system wrought by this world.

Still, she doesn't want to spend another winter in a damp cave if she can avoid it and wherever they are is liable to be snowier than the previous ones.

Colder, too, if precedent is anything to go by. The whole world is colder, it seems...

Michonne shakes the thought away and moves quietly through the trees.

* * *

She finds a river. Large enough to give them difficulty passing but not impossible. she follows the bank a distance, looking for the best point across but not daring to wade into the water on her own. She'll bring Daryl and Sasha tomorrow, they can decide if what lies across the water is worth the effort for all of them to cross.

Satisfied that she's seen all she can see for the night, Michonne starts back, leaving the riverbank for the safety of the trees. Ever vigilant, ever watchful, the only sign that she is not alone comes from just the slightest crunch of leaves. Michonne doesn't freeze, gives no indication that she's noticed a thing save for the way she casually unsheathes her weapon.

If she's lucky, whoever it is will move on, will find no use for her and she can make it back to camp. Too many times they have encountered other survivors, none of them bringing anything but trouble. Gone are the days of taking in anyone they find, the seven of them have no room for anyone else in their heads or their shattered hearts. Not anymore.

Another crunch of leaves and Michonne resigns herself to the fact that she isn't going to make it out of this without trouble. Carefully, she changes course as subtly as she can so as not to lead her mystery pursuer towards their camp. She'll walk until it's safe, if she needs to... Walk until the leaves don't crunch any more.

She says nothing, merely keeps walking through the forest but the leaves are crunching closer. Whoever follows is not a skilled woodsman, possibly a woman or child from the sound of it. Michonne knows better than to underestimate her foe for either of those reasons, however.

She rounds a pine tree, thankful for the needles to obscure her long enough to quickly change direction, doubling back on her pursuer with her weapon raised.

The tip of her sword stops an inch from the woman and Michonne narrows her eyes in recognition.

"Michonne," She says softly, not put off by the sword tip that gently brushes her throat.

Michonne studies her for a moment, giving only a nod and not lowering her weapon.

"Carol."


End file.
